Sunday, January 7, 2018

Poem: Silent Words

I’ve always been more of a thinker than a talker, an
introvert than an extrovert. But despite all this, there are times I long to
speak and converse, to share a story with somebody and to make somebody feel as
deeply as I do. Maybe it’s not always possible, but it’s a dream, nonetheless.

It’s one of my jokes that, in my family, my siblings use up
my word quota. On a given day, I say maybe a hundred words to their six or
seven thousand. (So what if I’m being a little dramatic? No, I don’t actually
go around counting people’s words!) But when it comes to writing, I can use
thousands of words at once. Writing is my means of expression.

But in a digital world where there are hundreds of writers
across the globe, sometimes it feels like I’m writing to the void, the nameless
statistics on the internet. No, this isn’t a criticism to you, my dear reader.
It’s merely a self-reflection. Often times, I put too much emphasis on wanting
to be heard instead of the act of creating itself. This poem is a reflection of
the act of creation, of feelings of loneliness, of telling a story, and
ultimately, of letting go of self-conceit.